


New Babysitter

by afteriwake



Series: All Of Time And Space [7]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 03:04:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was kind of nice, having Sherlock as a babysitter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Babysitter

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know what the actual age gap between the characters is, though I’m imagining it’s probably around six years or so. Or at least it is for the purposes of my series. Also, and other fics will show this more, Amy is the only kid teen Sherlock treats nicely in this AU.

“Amelia, Mycroft won’t be watching you anymore,” Aunt Sharon said as she finished getting ready. “You’ll have a new babysitter now.”

She made a face. Mycroft had been watching her since she was five; she was nine now and personally she didn’t think she needed a babysitter. “Can’t I just stay home by myself?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be gone for two days. Your babysitter will be staying here overnight in the guest room.”

She made a face. “Please tell me it’s not old Mrs. Anderson.”

She smiled slightly. “I think you’ll be happy with him.” The doorbell rang. “That should be him. Let him in?”

 _Him,_ , Amelia thought, and then with a dash she was off. There was only one older male in all of Leadworth who would tolerate her for an extended period of time, and she prayed that it was him. She got to the door and threw it open and was rewarded by the familiar sight of Sherlock Holmes standing on her doorstep. “Yes!” she said. “Aunt Sharon! Sherlock’s here!” she called out behind her.

“I take it you’re happy to see me,” he said with a slight smile.

“I always did like you more than your brother,” she said with a wide grin. She moved out of the way and he came in, with a small duffel bag in one hand and his violin case in the other. He was a young teenager but everyone in the village knew him to be more mature and levelheaded than the other boys his age. He was also the only one of that age group who didn’t tease her mercilessly. Or they had until Sherlock had had some words with them. She had no clue what he had said but suddenly all the older boys left her alone. He was her hero for that.

Aunt Sharon came up and told him what was expected, and gave him a slip of paper with the number where she could be reached. He took it with a nod after putting his violin case on the floor, and then she left. He turned to look at Amy. “I suppose it would be a good idea to start your homework now, if you want to have someone come over to keep you company for a little while afterwards.”

“Mels?” she asked hopefully.

“I would prefer Williams, but if she behaves she can come over. But no getting into trouble. I know her tendencies.”

“All I have is math. Pre-algebra. I don’t get it, and Aunt Sharon’s rubbish at it as well.”

“I can help,” he said. “Go get your books.”

“Don’t you want to know where you’re sleeping tonight?”

He paused. “You must be having memory problems. I used to lock myself in there when I wanted to read and you wanted to play ‘Raggedy Doctor.’”

“I rarely go in that room,” she said with a shrug. “Don’t know why, but it gives me the creeps.”

“Math book?” he prompted, and she nodded, running up the stairs to get her school things. She brought them back downstairs and for the next forty minutes he helped her with her homework. He had before, after they had declared themselves friends, but she always got the feeling he found it too easy and was therefore boring. Why he continued to help when she obviously wasn't getting it she didn't know, but in the end the problems got done, and she kind of understood it, and that was what mattered, she supposed.

She got to the phone and called Mels, but then she found out she was grounded for swiping their teacher’s keys and going into the car and turning the stereo up earlier in the week. She didn’t bother to call Rory, because he was off visiting relatives elsewhere for the weekend. Dejectedly, she sat back at the kitchen table and sighed. “My friends can’t come over,” she said glumly.

“Do you think you could occupy yourself with something you like that you don’t need another person to enjoy things with?” he said, pulling out a folder from his bag.

“I guess I could draw,” she said with a shrug. She trudged upstairs and got her supplies. Her art teacher had said she was getting much better at human figures, so she’d been trying to draw people, but no one would model for her. She took it back to the kitchen and set it out, watching Sherlock with his folder for a moment. If she was quiet, she could probably draw him, she thought, and she set to work.

It was a half hour later when he caught her looking at him. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I was drawing you. See?” She turned the paper towards him and pushed it in his direction. He picked it up and studied it, a faint smile coming to his face. She felt herself warm slightly at it; Aunt Sharon never even remotely smiled at her artwork. “You can keep it, if you want,” she replied.

“Thank you,” he said, pushing the paper back towards her. “After you sign it.”

She grew warmer still, and did her best cursive signature on the paper. She handed it back to him and he put it at the back of his file, and she went back to drawing. They spent another two hours like this before it was time to eat. She could cook; after all, she’d fed the raggedy Doctor a few years ago. She could make normal food for the two of them because she knew he didn’t really know how. Mycroft had tried to make him cook several times when he’d babysat and the food would be burnt or just not taste good. She shooed him back to the table and set about making grilled cheese sandwiches. It was her favorite food and easy to make.

When the sandwiches were ready she served them up, and he looked up from his file occasionally to eat absently. She wolfed hers down with a glass of milk, then went back to drawing for a while, drawing him and other things in the kitchen. For a day of being babysat and not having her friends over it wasn’t that bad of a day. At seven she stopped drawing and went to take her bath and get ready for bed. She was on her way back to her bedroom when she heard lovely music coming from downstairs. She sat on the steps and listened.

The last time she’d heard him play violin he was learning a new song and it was bad. But this didn’t sound like any song she knew, just him trying new sounds and stuff. It was very nice and very soothing. She found herself yawning but she wanted to keep listening. Soon it was too much to keep her head up and she leaned against the railing on the side of the stairs, shut her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

She didn’t know how long it was until she was lifted up. She just vaguely realized she was being carried to bed, but it felt nice and had been a long time since someone had done that, so she snuggled closer. Soon she was deposited in bed, the blankets pulled up, and she was just awake enough to say “Thank you, Sherlock” half-mumbled and sleepy. Her response was the light turning off and a door shutting quietly and then she was back to sleep, sinking into sweet dreams about something other than her beloved Doctor for the first time in ages.


End file.
